


Digging

by orphan_account



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-13
Updated: 2007-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurapika buries Ubogin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Digging

**Summary:** Kurapika buries Ubogin.  
 **Notes:** A quick ficlet/drabble, written to make an indent in my [](http://fanfic100.livejournal.com/profile)[**fanfic100**](http://fanfic100.livejournal.com/) claim.

 

  
It's drop dead cold in the desert all year round; tonight – still, starless – is no warmer or worse than yesterday was or tomorrow will be. Coupled with the effects of drying sweat and loneliness, it should be morbidly freezing, and is; his muscles are shivering, but that's tension, tension and the beat of his heart, quick and steadier than it has a right to be.

He swings. The shovel strikes rock. The ground is hard to heave, red earth caked up with dehydration, home to sturdy insect life and little else. Each sweep of his tool displaces a hundred ants from their trail in the soil; the insects scatter, some crawling over his feet, running up his calves to bite him. He will be bitten many times before dawn comes: the pit must be wide, and deep.

Once upon a time he dug in a soil richer than this one, first for life, the song of the bees and the leaves, the rain, the sun shifting through the seasons, for duty and family and love, when the voices of his companions were many. It was a chore then, but pleasurable.

First for life, and then a week of numbness, the end of the world, the last time he wielded a shovel. Tonight? Death returning to death, food for the scorpion, the snakes. The worm, the clinking chain, with no denouement in sight. Just the silent wind, and his imprisoned heartbeat.

He's dug so many. This is just one grave. Just one.

It's cold.  



End file.
